The Golden Harbor
The storm had broken the silence of Harrow’s End with a violence that left the town trembling in the damp, gray morning, the harbor water standing black and still as oil, reflecting the shattered sky in a way that made the eye water. Elara Vane, thirty-two and hollowed out by a grief that had become indistinguishable from her own skeleton, stood at the edge of the dock, her fingers digging into...
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